


Guessing Game

by Eruphadriel



Series: Cullen x Atheva x Triss [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Light Bondage, Multi, OT3, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eruphadriel/pseuds/Eruphadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atheva and Triss challenge Cullen, testing his ability to tell the difference between the two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guessing Game

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is a sort of trade with my friend (who created Atheva). She commissioned an artist to draw a (VERY NSFW) scene from 'Dare Game', and to repay her, I wrote a sequel. You can find the art on my Tumblr, eruphadriel.

"Commander?"

"Hm? What?"

The recruit's scarred face twisted in confusion. "Sister Leliana has asked for the locations of our newest camps in the west."

"Oh." Cullen pulled open a drawer and rummaged through the loose papers until he found the map he looked for. He handed it to the soldier.

"Is something troubling you?"

The commander frowned. "Pardon me?" he pressed, more out of response than actual curiosity. His attention was firmly fixed on the upstairs loft of his office, where Private Trevelyan and Inquisitor Lavellan worked on a surprise.

"You seem distracted this afternoon," the soldier explained. She laughed a little. "Eager for the day to end?"

"Huh? Oh. Yes. Speaking of, if that is all..."

The recruit straightened, gave a salute, and marched out. Cullen knew there was a reason he liked her. Triss Trevelyan would have lingered long past her welcome, extracting confessions from him, drawing out every minute, every word.  _Like a dog with a bone_. At least the soldier now busied herself with Atheva. The Inquisitor was more than just an outlet for Triss. More than just another woman to both she and Cullen. And the commander, loathe as he was to admit it, felt the same affection for the soldier. Maybe it could be just the three of them. Did people do that?

A giggle fluttered down from the loft, followed by a quick, "Shush!" and an apology. Cullen locked the doors to his office. Whatever other people did, this was what he wanted. He had never been surer about anything before.

Their relationship did not come without surprises like these. Walking into Atheva's opulent chambers to find the Inquisitor tied up, ankles to her thighs, hands behind her back, legs spread wide and her arousal on display. Finding the two of them hiding under his desk, his breeches mysteriously unlacing during a meeting. And now this: the two barging into his office with a bag they refused to open to him, making a beeline for his loft and saying only that they had a surprise for him.

Their hushed whispers faded to silence as Cullen's gloves whispered against the ladder rungs. Earlier, he had heard quiet murmurs above him. He had even picked out certain words.  _Reward. Knot –_  or had it been ‘not?’  _What if they bruise him? The man wears gloves to supper, Red; he'll find a way to cover them up. ... out of ideas? We're creative._  As he made his ascent, the commander heard his bed creak. Something fell on the floor.

"But we're not ready!" Atheva's voice had panic threaded through her words.

Triss chuckled softly at the Inquisitor's worry. "Relax. We still need to explain the rules to him."

 _Rules?_  Cullen found himself hurrying up the ladder now, the weight of his armour strangely less cumbersome than usual. When he reached his loft, he found them. The two had their backs turned to him. Triss wore nothing but her uniform trousers. She leaned back, using her weight to tighten the rope on his bedpost. He tore his eyes away from her to find the Inquisitor working on the other side, securing a second rope with deft fingers, clad in the finest Orlesian lingerie. Cullen had seen Atheva wear fine silks and tulle, taffeta and chiffon, but she was never as beautiful as she was now. Cheeks flushed pink as her lacy smalls, scrambling across the bed to cover his eyes.

"We're not ready, Cullen!" she laughed. "We said we would call you up when we were."

Cullen took her hands in his and pulled them away from his eyes. "I couldn't help myself," he said, placing a kiss on her inner wrist.

"Now," he said when he released the elf, "what's all this?"

Triss gave the rope she worked on one final yank before giving a satisfied sigh and leaning back to examine her work. "It's a sort of game, Commander," she explained coyly.

Atheva's excited gaze flickered between the soldier and Cullen. "We thought that by now, you can tell the difference between us. When we kiss you and... do  _other_  things..."

"And we decided to put that ability to the test," Triss continued. From the bag on the floor, she withdrew a silken scarf of ruby red. "Your job is to lay down, blindfolded and hands bound --"

"-- so you cannot feel anything except what we do --"

"-- and try to guess who is..." Triss finished with a wicked laugh. "Now get undressed."

Cullen didn't have to be told twice. The mere concept of their game made heat surge through him, heart pounding, blood rushing. As he removed his raiment piece by glimmering piece, Atheva snatched the scarf from Triss.

"But what about a reward?" insisted the Inquisitor. "For whoever wins?"

"I thought this was just a simple game!" cried Cullen.

Atheva cocked one eyebrow. "With Triss?  _Everything_  is a competition."

The soldier didn’t dispute the fact. "Should Cullen win, he will receive breakfast in bed for one week. And all that ensues when we serve him."

The commander pulled his tunic over his head. "And if you two win?"

They thought for a moment. “I’ll get a week off, and... Atheva will have breakfast in bed." Triss patted the mattress. "Now, come on. Let's get started."

Atheva held out her hand. Cullen's heart skipped at the sight of the two of them awaiting him. He sunk into the soft featherbed.

"Raise your arms," the Inquisitor ordered.

He did as he was told, and each secured a rope around his wrists. The coarse material chaffed against the soft part of his inner wrists. The sensation sent shivers all through him.

"There," said Triss, using her weight once more to tighten the knot. "Try to escape."

Cullen pulled at the restraints, but they were secure. The soldier and the Inquisitor smirked at one another.

"What a  _compromising_  position our Commander is in," Atheva purred.

Excitement jolted through him at the luxurious tone of her voice. It wasn't long before the elf leaned forward and tied the crimson scarf around his eyes, plunging him into darkness.

"Can you see anything?" asked Triss. "And be honest."

"Nothing," promised Cullen.

"Good," Atheva whispered.

Cullen found his other senses slowly piquing as he became accustomed to being blindfolded. He could feel every rise and fall of the bed as his companions shifted positions. He could smell Atheva's ambrosial scent. And he could hear skin rasping against skin, and the soft smack of lips.

"You're meant to be kissing  _me_ ," reminded the commander. "Not each other."

The wet sound ceased. "Sorry," murmured Atheva. "We couldn't help it."

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the loft. The Inquisitor let our a shrill giggle.

"I know  _I_  certainly couldn't," Triss declared playfully.

The mattress sunk and rose in places. Fabric was pulled away and Atheva let out a quiet moan. Cullen instinctively reached for the Inquisitor, but hardly an inch grew between his hands and the headboard before his restraints stopped him. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated.

The empty spot beside him was suddenly filled. A warm arm grazed the side of his torso, and long hair tickled him. Atheva's lithe form only dinted the mattress slightly. The elf moaned again, her body twisting and her breath catching. Another arm slid against him, this one near his hip.

"This is terribly unfair," he said, voice hoarse.

Atheva let out a raspy moan, a bleary sound that only vaguely resembled the soldier's name. His smalls were suddenly tighter. Cullen worked his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting the urge to test his binding again.

Triss hummed. "Should we put our Commander out of his misery?"

"That sounds like fun," Atheva said, breath stolen from her lungs.

The bed shifted again, and the warmth from his side was gone. Cullen used his constraints to pull himself up, sitting with his back against his pillows. He braced himself for whatever they had in store, though when it came to those two, there really was no preparing.

"Let's start with something simple," suggested Triss, her voice closer than before. "Who is this?"

A small, warm mouth sealed around his. A hot tongue ran the rim of his lower lip, teeth nipping, fingers grazing his bare chest. She pulled away only a moment later, leaving him trailing after her until the ropes tore against his skin.

"Well?" Triss prompted. "Who was that?"

Cullen pursed his lips in thought. "Atheva?" he ventured.

They both made a breathy noise of disappointment. Cullen grinned.

"I take it I was right. That was rather easy."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Commander," warned Atheva. "That was only round one."

Someone whispered something so quietly that he couldn't discern the words. Before he could ask what was said, a pair of lips pressed against his throat. Pain jolted through him, teeth sinking into his flesh, biting and sucking until he was sure there was a large, splotchy bruise on his neck.

"Who was that?" asked Atheva when whoever it had been pulled away.

"Triss," Cullen replied with confidence.

Atheva giggled. "Guess again."

From beneath his blindfold, Cullen's eyes opened. His mouth hung agape. They chuckled at his surprise and he bed shifted again. At the warm touch of fingers on his hips, Cullen lifted up off the bed to allow whoever it was to slide his smalls off. He let out a relieved sigh as his cock was released from its confines.

"Are you ready?" asked Triss.

Cullen nodded eagerly, voice fleeing and desire filling its place. He hardly had a chance to register the movements he felt before a hot tongue slid from the base of his length to the tip. Slow, deliberate. Cullen's back stiffened and he lifted his hips up. But the feeling vanished.

"Who was that?" Atheva challenged.

"H-How am I meant to tell?" he sputtered. "There was nothing for me to – to –"

"Shall we give you another hint?" interrupted the soldier, a wicked streak in her voice.

He couldn't reply. Two hands, calloused in places, stroked his cock, and a tongue teased its tip. He knew from the rough palms exactly whose lips wrapped around his arousal.

"T-Triss," gasped Cullen, squeezing his hands into fists.

"He's winning," Trevelyan muttered.

The Inquisitor clucked her tongue. "It appears so. I think we need to up our game."

Someone straddled him. The commander angled his hips up, longing for purchase against whoever it was. A soft hand grasped his cock firmly, lining it up with their hot, wet sex. Cullen rolled his hips. He stifled a moan, lip tucked between his teeth, as whoever it was rutted against him.

"Who's this?" Triss asked breathlessly.

Cullen furrowed his brow. It was impossible to tell with his mind fixated on the slick folds his cock slipped against. Silk-soft hands that had never known a sword, but a dominant grip. The soldier's words came on a gasp, but it didn't feel like her...

"Atheva?" he ventured. "Wait, n--"

Triss laughed and squeezed his cock. "Wrong."

Cullen hassled against his restraints, rope taut, as Triss pulled away and left him aching for contact. A snapping sound filled the loft. Did they high-five? Or was that a spank? Helpless longing flooded through him.

"Let me try again," he begged.

"As you wish," said Triss.

One of them moaned. His cock twitched at the sound. It was quick and quiet, and Cullen knew not to whom the mangled gasp belonged. The bed shifted to his right, and two wet fingers pressed against his lips. Cullen obediently opened his mouth and tasted them. Too quickly did she pull her fingers away, but not before Cullen felt a callous brush his bottom lip.

"Who did that belong to?" Triss challenged.

He licked his lips, the taste yet lingering on his tongue. "Those were your fingers, so it had to be Atheva –"

"Are you sure about that?" teased the soldier.

Though he had been certain, Cullen now recalled Atheva's blistered fingers from fletching and bowstrings. He chewed his lip.

"I want another try," decided the commander.

There was a pause. Cullen assumed they exchanged glances. Atheva sighed.

"How are we –"

"Legs behind his arms?" Triss suggested.

"Hold onto the headboard?" Atheva finished.

The soldier chuckled. "Just like old times."

Cullen grinned, knowing exactly what was to come next. He slid down so that he laid as flat on his back as he could manage. The headboard keened forward as someone grasped it and maneuvered themselves. Muscled legs slid behind his biceps, thighs resting on his shoulders for a second before she sat up. Cullen caught the scent of her arousal. He had a plan. He tilted his chin up, eager to execute it.

The moment she lowered her sex to his mouth, Cullen sealed his lips around her clit and tongued it fervently. He focussed not on what he tasted, but on what he heard. A strangled, held-back cry fleeted from her throat. Then something slapped, a hand over her mouth. Cullen's tongue darted between her folds, teasing her entrance.

And there it was. Muffled, but distinct.

"Maker!"

Cullen turned his head and kissed her inner thigh. "Triss. Your faith betrays you."

"That was unfair," the soldier said in a growl, gripping his chin and tipping his face up.

Atheva giggled. "No. That was clever."

Cullen could practically feel Triss glaring at him. She untangled herself. He tried to track their movements, but they got mixed up at the foot of his bed.

"Last round," said Triss. "Whoever wins this, wins the game."

"That's cheating. You say that only because you're losing." There was a smirk laced in his tone.

"If you're so good," the soldier snapped, "then you shouldn't be worried about cheating."

Someone crawled up and straddled his shoulders again. The ropes burned his wrists, instinct kicking in as he reached to grab her and force her closer. Whoever it was cupped the back of his neck, threading their fingers in his hair. He let his tongue graze her entrance. He knew the taste. It reminded him of that winter, ravishing them both until they remembered little more than their names and awaking the next morning unable to speak, his jaw ached so terribly. Who had it been? He listened for a cry, but to which god?

Cullen was so concentrated on what he heard that he didn't pay attention to his second lover until they sunk onto his cock, every movement agonizingly slow. He groaned as tight heat stretched around him. Her sex throbbed around his length.

Two things happened at once. First, Triss laughed, and said, "You'll never get this one." Second, Cullen thrust up. Hard. Her voice wobbled. Yet at the same time, Atheva let out a gasping moan. Flesh whispered against flesh. Someone had their hand over the other one's mouth.

"Silencing each other is cheating, too," he warned. They said nothing. "Not talking? Fine."

Cullen flicked his tongue over her swollen nub. He listened. He waited. As he teased, Cullen felt her legs tightening around his arms. The headboard creaked under her grip. At the same time, he angled his hips and thrust up again, seeking just that spot he knew would have either one of them trembling and moaning his name.

Heat coiled in his belly, swelling, ready to burst and flood through him. But not yet. He had to last until he knew. He slowed his hips to a gentle rock, sucking her clit, drawing out another sharp gasp. But his second lover was jealous. Hands braced his hips, and her gradual thrusts turned shallow and reckless.  
Cullen couldn't hold back his moan. The sound only served to fuel his lover's passion. She leaned forward, nails scraping his abdomen, digging into his waist. Riding him until she squeezed around him too hot, too tight for him to stand.

His release overwhelmed him, muscles in his belly clenching, hands curling into fists, a rasping groan tearing from his throat. For a few moments, Cullen forgot about the game. The commander was delightedly lost in the wake of his climax, the echo of his outcry resounding in his ears.

And then their warmth was gone. Giggles fluttered through the loft.

"You lose!" Atheva laughed.

"B-But I never guessed," stammered Cullen.

Triss chuckled. "Didn't we mention? To finish is to forfeit.”

"No, you never said --"

A familiar, wet sound reached Cullen's ears. He frowned.

"What are you doing?"

Atheva hummed in amusement. "You know  _exactly_  what we're doing."

Cullen pulled himself up, squirming a little. The coquettish tone of the soldier's voice, however, stopped his smile dead.

"Don't get too excited, Commander. That blindfold's not coming off unti–  _Ohh_... Atheva, your mouth is  _sin_."

Cullen sighed and settled back into his pillows. He was content with listening.  _For now_ , he thought, the knot Atheva had tied loosening with a twist of his wrist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated and encouraged ^^


End file.
